Chapter Ten
Ryker
Asking his mother to come here had come back
to bite Ryker on the ass.
He’d wanted to get her read on Wes. She was
a hardworking, successful businesswoman, and Ryker trusted her
instincts about people. She had, after all, learned the hard way
since his father had up and left when Ryker was six months old.
He’d also wanted to make Wes a little bit
uncomfortable, but that plan had backfired.
Despite his mom’s presence this morning and
his reaction to her frank question, Wes regained his composure
quickly and was already back to his annoyingly charming self.
Wes chuckled. “You don’t pull any punches,
do you, Tina?”
“Forgive me for my timing, but I am very
direct. I run a marketing agency, so as a businesswoman, I am used
to getting right to the point to avoid wasting time. Time is
precious, right?” she said with a smile.
“Yes, I’m that way, too.” Wes paused,
quickly glancing at Ryker before turning his attention back to
Tina. “I won’t deny that your son is extremely attractive, but I’m
here to convince him to work with me. Ryker feels we won’t mesh
well because of our differences in personality. But I want to
explore the potential for a creative partnership. I think combining
our writing styles will bring forth an exciting venture. I’m also
having some trouble with writer’s block, and I’m hoping Ryker can
help me. I respect his work immensely and feel that I could learn a
lot from him.”
Wes’s words of praise made Ryker’s heart
beat faster. He respected Wes’s openness, but he was also surprised
that Wes had revealed his writing problems again. It wasn’t an easy
thing to admit. As a writer, experiencing a block was so
frustrating and, depending on how bad it was or how long it went
on, terrifying. He knew it was difficult for Wes to tell anyone,
let alone Ryker and now his mother, who was practically a stranger
at this point.
Wes had also admitted that he found Ryker
attractive, but maybe that was just for show. Wes was a natural
flirt, so it was hard to tell. Ryker sensed that Wes’s reactions
were genuine. Ryker felt a pull between them and a tension he
couldn’t deny—it was natural and powerful. He hoped he wasn’t alone
in that feeling. Even as Ryker’s rational brain issued warnings to
stay away, he couldn’t help but be drawn to Wes’s energy.
“Well, thank you for your honesty, Wes.”
Tina smiled and gestured between them. “I think you two boys need
to talk it out. I have a spa appointment in half an hour, so I have
to get going.” She stood, put her plate and cup in the sink, then
walked back over to the counter and placed a hand on Wes’s
shoulder. “Wes, it was nice to meet you. Hopefully, we’ll meet
again for a longer discussion. In the meantime, I wish you the best
of luck with my stubborn son. You will need it.” She grabbed a
large leather tote bag from the living room sectional, then waved
and headed down the hallway. “Ryker, come help me with the door,
please.”
Ryker followed his mom, as requested, and
held the door open for her.
“Ryker, you be kind to that man. He probably
has the world at his feet, but there is something inside him that
is lost. You can see it in his eyes. You are a quiet, caring soul.
Be patient with Wes.” Ryker started to respond, but Tina held a
hand up to silence him and continued: “I know you were hurt in the
past, but life is for living, and I want to see you happy and
fulfilled. You spend too much time alone, mi carino. It’s
not healthy. Now, go talk to your writing partner.” She kissed him
on the cheek and was off.
“He’s not my partner yet,” Ryker mumbled. He
stood at the door until his mom disappeared into the elevator, then
made his way back to the kitchen.
Only to find Isaac, the cat who didn’t like
anyone, curled up on Wes’s lap as if he belonged there. Was there
not one single being this man could not charm? Wes’s large hand
rubbed soothingly over Isaac’s white fur, and Ryker found it
strange that he was suddenly envious of his cat. Ryker imagined
those warm palms rubbing over his skin, sparking fiery trails of
excitement with every touch.
“Be careful. Isaac is prone to biting and
scratching anyone but me,” Ryker warned.
“Nah, we’re cool. You love me, don’t you,
baby?” Wes cooed. Isaac’s purrs grew louder, and then Princess
Leia, the tabby, trotted into the room to see what all the fuss was
about. “And who do we have here?” Wes asked as she started to rub
against his legs.
“This is Princess Leia, but she acts like a
queen. Very demanding,” Ryker said as he picked Leia up and
scratched her head. Spock sat by Wes’s feet, curled up and
content.
It was rare for Ryker to have company over,
and he stood quietly watching Wes interact with his fur babies. He
expected to feel awkward, but it never happened. It felt right to
have Wes here in his space. Like he belonged. He would think about
why later.
“I hope my mom didn’t offend you,” Ryker
said, breaking the silence.
“Nope, she’s great. I love a person who gets
right to the heart of the matter. Just out of curiosity, ’cause I
am a nosy writer, do you have any more family?” Wes asked as he
continued to cradle Isaac.
“My sister, Rachel. She lives in Australia.
It’s just the three of us. My dad left when I was six months old
and Rachel was five.” Ryker pointed to a photo of Rachel, his mom,
and himself as a seven-year-old, standing in front of the New York
City public library branch on Fifth Avenue. “My dad was in the army
and met my mom when he was stationed in San Juan. They met, quickly
married, moved here, had us and then, one day, five years later, he
left. Mom spoke very little English at the time and had no job.
She’d been a nurse in San Juan but couldn’t get hired here. We
struggled for many years. Thankfully, we had a nice neighbor who
helped us out. Mom learned English, eventually got a job as an
office assistant, and then earned a full scholarship to go back to
school. And the rest is history.” He paused. “Sorry, I don’t know
why I told you all that.”
“I don’t mind. Talk all you want. Feel free
to tell me it’s none of my business, but what happened to your
dad?” Wes asked cautiously, placing Isaac on the floor, then
rubbing his hands on his thighs.
“We don’t know. Mom hired an investigator
years later when she could afford it, but they never found him. My
dad, Walter Hoffman, was born and raised in Vermont, so we thought
maybe he’d gone back there but no. The investigator looked into his
parents, who were from Germany, but my grandparents were both
deceased by the time my father got married, and we didn’t know of
any other relatives. When we were older, Rachel and I took our
mother’s maiden name. I didn’t really want to think of my dad or
see the reminder of him every time I signed my name. And unlike
Rachel, I don’t have any memories of him.”
Wes appeared to be at a loss for words.
Ryker gave him a small smile. “Everything worked out. We’ve had
each other and support from our friends. We’re all hardworking,
fairly well-adjusted people.”
“I know a bit about where you’re coming
from. I was raised by my grandmother after my parents died. Well,
you’ve already read my bio. My parents were murdered at their
lakefront cabin when I was just eight.”
Ryker nodded. “I’m so sorry, Wes. I can’t
imagine how you coped with that loss at such a young age.”
“A lot of therapy and a lot of love from my
grandmother. I didn’t make it easy on her, though. When I was a
teenager, I became obsessed with finding out what happened to my
parents and answering the question that haunted me—why them?”
“Seems like we both had to deal with
difficult unknowns.”
Wes nodded in agreement. “Eventually, I got
an answer, but it didn’t make the grieving process any easier.
Unfortunately, they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. The
man who murdered them was living nearby and had mental health
issues. He’d been experiencing increased paranoia and
hallucinations, and he was convinced my parents were encroaching on
his land and were out to hurt him. When I look back on it now, it
makes me sad rather than angry at the whole situation. If only he’d
received the help he needed, my parents might be alive.”
“How did you cope with that knowledge?”
“It took a long time for me to process it,
and I’m still not sure I’m done. I guess that’s why I was always
drawn to mysteries. I was curious about what drives people to
desperate acts. I even thought about becoming an investigator at
one point, but writing won out.” Wes sighed and ran a hand over his
face. “And now my memories of my parents get fainter as time goes
on. Thank God for my grandmother. She kept all their mementos and
pictures so at least I have that. My grandmother was strict with
me, but she loved me fiercely. She was quite a woman—lively,
outgoing, witty. Even after all the losses she’d suffered, she was
determined to live life to the fullest.”
“Sounds like her grandson,” Ryker mused.
This time it was Wes’s turn to blush. Their eyes met and a powerful
awareness passed between them. Ryker forced himself to look
away.
Ryker switched gears, breaking the moment.
“Do you mind if we turn back to the project? I was doing some
brainstorming last night on possible themes for the book series. I
thought we could each write a chapter and see how our styles
mesh.”
Ryker walked over to his storyboard wall and
Wes followed, bringing with him the unique smell of salt and citrus
Ryker loved. It made Ryker want to push Wes up against the nearest
wall and lick his throat, to see if he tasted just as good as he
smelled. After their personal revelations, and in the close
confines of the apartment, Ryker’s body craved a similar intimacy
with Wes. He imagined sucking and nibbling up the side of his neck,
over that blond stubble, until he reached those sumptuous lips.
Then he would plunge his tongue into Wes’s mouth, and they would
battle for dominance, neither of them coming up for air until…
“You’ve been busy.”
Wes’s comment interrupted Ryker’s vivid
fantasy. “Insomnia leaves me with hours to do nothing but think and
write,” Ryker said, shrugging.
“How long have you been dealing with that?”
Wes asked.
“For the past ten years,” Ryker stated.
“It’s a long story. I might share it with you another day.”
Two hours, three more cups of coffee, and
four arguments later, Wes and Ryker had come up with a list of
three possible plot tropes for their fantasy series.
“I want the relationship between the
protagonists to be sexy and erotic. It should be sweaty, messy, and
dirty. Emphasis on the dirty.” Wes waggled his eyebrows.
Ryker ran his hands through his hair in
frustration. “That’s the one thing I’m worried about. I’ve never
written sex scenes or romantic dialogue before. I’m going to have
to do some research.”
“Research? Just think of any fantasy you’ve
had recently and write it down. Boom, done.”
Ryker’s face flushed an alarming shade of
red, and Wes grinned. Recalling his earlier fantasy starring the
man before him, Ryker already had one particular scene in mind.
“Okay, so the sex scenes may not be an
issue. But the love story? The fuck do I know about romantic love?
What about you?” Ryker looked expectantly at Wes.
Wes pursed his lips for a moment and then
let out a big sigh, his golden eyes darker as they met Ryker’s
head-on. “I thought I was in love once. But it turned out to be a
big fat lie. On his part. I was a fool. So, yeah, I don’t know much
about love either. Let’s just focus on the major plot points and
character development for now. We’ll deal with the rest later.”
Ryker nodded in agreement. “Do you have any
plans this afternoon?” he asked.
“Nope. Why, are you asking me out on a
date?” Wes said with a smirk.
Ryker rolled his eyes. “No, Prince Charming.
Our call with Mac is at seven, so we have a few hours to kill and
I’ve got an errand to run. Why don’t you come with me? Then we can
bring back dinner and take the call here.”
“You’re not going to ditch me in a bad part
of town, are you? I’m a defenseless Canadian.” Wes’s eyes were back
to their usual bright gleam.
Ryker made sure to keep a straight face.
“You’ll have to be brave and find out.”